His headache only worsened with time.

  Neither Peak nor any other spell helped. Matthew’s fits of pain rarely lasted an instant, but that one continued long after Kari led them through a maze of a dozen secret doors and into a ghastly hall worthy of H.R. Giger. Halogen lamps lit up walls of intertwined mechanical figures more akin to anthropomorphic cars and planes than humanoids. Each of them held flickering screens in their hands and glared at the group with telescopic camera eyes.

  The artist in Matthew would have found the place visually appealing, had the headache allowed him to focus. He had to stop and take medication when it grew unbearable. Thankfully, he always carried some in his bag for emergencies.

  “Matthew?” Kari asked upon noticing him cramming Dafalgan in his mouth and then drinking from a bottle. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he lied through his teeth. “Must be the smoke getting to my head.”

  His friend didn’t buy it. “You’re not fine at all.” She glanced at Jack and John, who were both checking the statues and screens, then leaned on to whisper in Matthew’s ear. “Is it about Jack?”

  “I… maybe?” Why did Jack’s words leave him in such pain? Matthew couldn’t remember whatever ‘shot’ he was referring to, but simply thinking about it caused him physical pain.

  “Something’s wrong with your friend, but I can’t put my finger on what,” Kari said. “His smile never reaches his eyes, and he sounds so… fake.”

  “He’s an influencer, what did you expect?” Jack smiled for a living. “He’s… I trust him, don’t worry.”

  “If you say so.” Kari looked slightly concerned, but didn’t press the subject. “If you need someone to talk to, I’m always here.”

  “Thanks, I… appreciate it.” In any case, the conversation helped distract him from the headache. “I already feel better just talking to you, and not just because you’re my best friend.”

  “Thanks, Matt. That means a lot to me.” Kari smiled shyly, only to suddenly look mortified as the reality of the situation finally hit her. “Oh God, you’re my best friend.”

  “Too late to turn back,” Matthew warned her. “You’re stuck with me now.”

  “No, no, it’s just…” Kari cleared her throat and walked back to the statues in a desperate attempt to change the subject. “Oh look, some of the screens are illusory holograms!”

  “Gee, another secret passage! Who would have thought?” John deadpanned, having encountered a similar feature in a previous room. “Which of these screens do not trigger your Doom Sense, Matthew?”

  “That one,” Matthew said, pointing at a screen held by two car-men figures. “Imagine if we had to pick them at random.”

  “I suspect we would have burned through the entire Association’s lineup by then,” John replied. He grabbed a notebook and finished mapping the room for future incursions. “We’ve covered half a kilometer of various passageways by now, but still no trace of Tarantulas’ nest or the next floor.”

  “It’s watching us at least,” Kari said, her gaze lingering on the cameras. “Maybe eavesdropping too.”

  “Perhaps you should just book a meeting then,” Jack mused.

  He said that jokingly, but Matthew thought he had a point. If Tarantulas was indeed listening to their conversations, they had little to lose from simply sending him a message.

  “Hey, spidey!” Matthew waved at one of the camera eyes. “Okay, I know we didn’t meet on the best of terms last time, but we totally come in peace now! All we want is to talk to you! To make peace! I Korea swear!”

  He heard the sound of Kari’s facepalm behind him, followed by Jack’s laughter and John’s groan. “You’re terrible at this, Matthew,” said the latter.

  “All I hear is complaining,” Matthew replied. “I would like to see you try.”

  “Fine.” John faced one of the cameras. Unlike Matthew, he didn’t bother with pleasantries. “You have information we want, and we won’t stop hounding you until we get it. Even if you think you can take us on, our superiors will send better fighters if we fail to return. This chase will either stop with your death, or the day you provide us with the intel we seek.”

  “That’s…” Kari coughed. “More of an ultimatum than a request.”

  “It’s the first offer, open to negotiation,” John replied dryly. “Anyway, let’s move on.”

  Matthew peeked through the holographic screen to find himself staring at a small passageway barely large enough for him to crawl into. “I’ll go in first,” he said. “If my Doom Sense triggers, I’ll make an exit hole.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “I’ll step in right after you,” Kari promised.

  Was it him, or was she a bit more eager to go along with his suggestions than usual? Matthew guessed she worried about his headaches. He felt a bit guilty about causing her concern.

  Whatever the case, he crawled into the passageway and advanced a few meters forward. The whole place felt more cramped than Evermarsh’s trash-infested sewer pipelines, and the metal pipes forming the tunnel pulsated with steam. He could feel the sweat permeating his shirt.

  “I can’t see anything,” Matthew complained. He fumbled in the dark the best he could, trusting his Doom Sense to activate should he approach a trap of some kind. “Any idea how–”

  The floor beneath him turned into a slope.

  Matthew barely had time to hear Kari shouting a warning behind him before he fell down an iron shaft. He tried to grab a wall to blow a hole in it and catch himself, but the fall didn’t last long enough for him to do so. He saw light, followed by a burst of heat and steam, then hit something thin and sticky.

  He had landed on a magnetic tape web, back first.

  Shit. Matthew struggled to move his head, his limbs firmly restrained. A cursory glance showed that the web holding him was located halfway down a vast pit that ended in boiling magma a few dozen meters below him. He could feel the heat rising all the way from here.

  If he opened a hole in the web–

  “You break the strands, you will die.”

  That inhuman, metallic voice sent chills down Matthew’s spine. He looked up to find himself staring at a bluish, holographic projection of a monstrous spider creature looming a few meters above him. Its hands clutched an illusory book and flipped through the pages at a frightening pace.

  Either Tarantulas used a spell to absorb information quickly, or it had learned how to quickread.

  “This is my first offer,” the monster said, its many telescoping eyes blinking and whirring as it studied Matthew’s reaction. “I am awaiting your counteroffer.”

  Shucks!

  Matthew glanced up at the spot which he fell from, only to see that the passage had closed. Either Tarantulas could trigger secret passages and traps from afar, or the Dungeon’s layout could change based on circumstances. Whatever the case, he doubted his team would arrive in time to assist him.

  Why didn’t his Doom Sense warn me? It felt strangely dulled even now. Either the spider-freak found a way to interfere with it… or it’s not hostile yet.

  Matthew glanced at the book which Tarantulas held in his arms, and promptly choked upon reading the title. “How to win friends and influence people?”

  Where did it even find that? None of the Crawlers brought that book into the Dungeon, so it had to have stolen it from somewhere else!

  “You said that friends are not you when we last met. I required more data to understand. To comprehend.” Tarantulas’ hologram closed its book. Matthew guessed that the monster was using a projection spell from another room in the Dungeon. “I am establishing a framework of constructive communication and de-escalation.”

  Oh gods, he sounded about as enthusiastic as a corporate video. “By holding me hostage over a magma pit?”

  “Friendship equals proximity correlated with intensity,” Tarantulas replied without emotion. Although he had gained a much better grasp of grammar since they last met, his way of speaking reminded Matthew of a parrot; all words, no understanding. “By holding you close, we can form a friendship.”

  “That’s called Stockholm Syndrome, not friendship!”

  Tarantulas’ head tilted to the side far, far farther than a human could; a sight which Matthew found unbearably creepy. “I am unaware of this term.”

  Somehow, Matthew had the intuition that teaching a giant monster capable of escaping Dungeons about Stockholm Syndrome wouldn’t end well.

  “You’re…” Matthew grit his teeth as he tried to find a way to buy time. “How can we become close when you’re not even here?!”

  “So are you,” Tarantulas replied, much to Matthew’s confusion. “I cannot allow a counteroffer that includes the possibility of my own destruction. Your past history of aggression demands additional countermeasures.”

  “Aggression?” Matthew snorted. “You killed our teammates first, jackass.”

  “It was not my intention to cause irreparable harm.” Tarantulas leaned forward to better study Matthew’s expression. He could feel the weight of the monster’s attention through the hologram. “You are things. Not a thing. Like me. Individuals, not a multitude.”

  As Matthew feared, the monster had grown self-aware enough to grasp the concept of selfhood. That made it incredibly dangerous.

  However, something about its statement bothered Matthew. He knew better than to take a monster at its word, but if it had assumed that the Old Town team were like monsters from a Dungeon, mindless and easy to replace, then… then maybe it didn’t realize the harm it caused.

  “We’re not like Dungeon monsters,” Matthew confirmed. “We don’t all share the same mind.”

  “Why do you react aggressively to the loss of another human then?” For once, the creature sounded genuinely curious rather than purely emotionless. “Their elimination does not meaningfully affect your own inner workings, nor cause a loss of resources. Why did an attack on other humans warrant retaliation?”

  “Because we care.” Matthew’s jaw clenched. He doubted a monster like Tarantulas would ever understand the concept of empathy, but surely it could at least grasp its consequences. “An attack on one is an attack on all.”

  “I have understanding. Cooperation and mutual protection against external threats to the group.” Tarantulas froze for a moment to assess the information. Its creepy, inhuman body language disturbed Matthew to the core. “I want to enter such an agreement.”

  Matthew’s heart skipped a beat. “What agreement?”

  “You have stated that you require information and would trade it for a cessation of hostilities. I propose a counteroffer.” Tarantulas’ maw morphed into what could pass for a twisted parody of a comforting smile. “I will provide this information in exchange for mutual cooperation and protection.”

  “Protection?” Matthew scowled. “From what, us?”

  “Danger,” Tarantulas replied without elaborating. “Further communication would require a constructive framework and concessions. Do you accept it?”

  If it wants a license to eat humans, it can get bent. Matthew didn’t think even the likes of Crypto would agree to such a thing. What other danger could this kind of creature fear? Other Crawlers? If it can understand speech, then it can lie…

  Then again, why did they have to lose from hearing it out?

  “Let me call my superior and teammates,” Matthew said. “Then we’ll see.”

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